


and baby makes three

by buckymorelikefuckme



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artificial Insemination, Breeding Kink, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Masturbation, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Smut, excessive blushing, idk they are just awkward beans, like way too much, reader tries to get pregnant, takes multiple tests and many are negative, there is one false positive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:22:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29964951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckymorelikefuckme/pseuds/buckymorelikefuckme
Summary: “I want to have a baby,” you blurt, eyes wide at your outburst.Bucky fumbles with the spoon, sending fried rice flying, muttering curses as he tries to catch it with no luck as it lands with a dull clunk.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 23
Kudos: 211





	and baby makes three

**Author's Note:**

> **TRIGGER WARNING PLEASE READ**  
> this is about reader wanting to have a baby and it doesn't go the way she wants for a while, so this could potentially trigger some people. please take care of yourselves! <3
> 
> any mistakes you may find are mine! xoxo

The idea of you having a child one day always seemed foreign and unlikely. Sure, you liked kids well enough, but having one of your own… 

It’s a thought that’s sat in a corner deep in your mind, buried beneath a million other impossible concepts; a thought that you’ve only ever glanced over and never gave your full attention, having ruled it out ages ago as something you just couldn’t—or wouldn’t—do. 

Until, one day, it pushes its way to the forefront of your mind, making itself known and unwilling to leave. 

You go into the store to find a new cardigan after your most favorite one got eaten by the dryer. Usually you’re a single-minded shopper, walking into a store with tunnel vision and a mission to get what you need and that’s it. Today, however, you make the mistake of letting your eyes wander on your way to the sweater section. Your gaze lands on the baby clothes and your steps falter. A tiny, pink onesie with a sleeping teddy bear printed on the front is displayed on an even tinier hanger. There’s matching pants with teddy bears all over and ruffles on the butt and all your brain can muster up is  _ cutecutecutecutecute _ . Your feet carry you closer and before you realize what you’re doing you pick up the outfit, letting out a coo when you realize the teddy bear is  _ fuzzy _ , softly rubbing your thumb across it. Somehow, you walk out of the store, not with a new cardigan, but with the cute baby outfit and a bow you thought looked adorable with it. 

It’s not until you get home that it hits you, that you bought baby clothes for a baby you don’t even have. The feeling that rushes through you is hard to describe. Shame? Embarrassment? 

...Yearning?

You shake your head to clear it, telling yourself you’ll take it back tomorrow. There’s no yearning going on here, not for a baby. You’ve never had that desire before and you certainly don’t see yourself having it now or anytime soon. 

Except you don’t take it back. You “forget” and it stays shoved on the top shelf in your hall closet. You pretend you don’t pause in front of said closet throughout the following days, chewing the inside of your cheek and staring at the door like you can see  _ through _ it. 

It gets harder to ignore, though, when you start getting ads for baby clothing brands, baby toys, handy little gadgets for new parents, nursery decor… It’s endless. Then, as if it wasn’t already bad enough, all of your childhood friends start popping out babies like it’s a new trend. Your social media is flooded with pregnancy announcements and baby arrivals. Your emotions are mixed; happy for them, happy for their excitement, but there’s a weird discomfort settled in your stomach. 

You hesitate to be  _ that _ person who thinks the universe is trying to tell you something, but you do wonder. Why else would you suddenly have these feelings? Why else would there be baby stuff everywhere you look? 

It brings on other thoughts, as well. In this day and age, it’s not too unusual for women to have babies without being married, or without a significant other at all. There is still the pressure to at least be in a relationship, but considering you’ve only been practically in love with one of your closest friends for the last two years, it’s safe to say that you’re super single, so having a baby  _ with _ someone is out of the question. 

And  _ god _ , do you even want a baby? 

As soon as the thought crosses your mind, with sudden clarity you realize you  _ do _ . It feels like a freight train has slammed into you. Your mind’s eye supplies you with images of a swollen belly and wide smile, a precious baby wrapped in a soft blanket in your arms, a gummy grin and happy giggle. Emotion consumes you then, longing like you’ve never felt, chest aching with how badly you want that. 

It’s not as if you’re too young. You’re plenty old enough and you’ve got a secure job. You don’t subscribe to that whole biological clock nonsense, but you do feel that if you are going to potentially have a baby, it might be better to do it now while you’re still in relatively good health. 

You groan, dropping your face into your open palms, your movie long forgotten as it continues to play on the television.  _ This is a lot to think about _ , you ponder to yourself. Taking a deep breath in and releasing it slowly, you decide the mature thing to do is give yourself more time to ruminate on this. Having a baby is no small decision. You need to be absolutely certain it’s what you want. It’s going to change your entire life, and you’d be responsible for a  _ new _ life. So, you’ll give yourself a few months to decide, and then you can go from there. 

***

You’re scrolling through yet another article on your laptop, engrossed in every detail of the process of artificial insemination and the symptoms and side effects that come with it. So engrossed, in fact, that you don’t hear the key turning in the lock, the door opening and closing, and the heavy footfalls that follow. 

It’s only when Bucky asks, “Whatcha reading?” that you are even aware of his presence. 

You startle so hard that your knee slams into the underside of your table. Ignoring the throbbing pain in your knee and your wildly beating heart, you close your laptop with a snap and turn to Bucky. 

“You could knock,” you grouse. 

“Why give me a key, then?” he retorts, unapologetic.

You roll your eyes and grumble under your breath, “Clearly, it was a mistake.”

“You didn’t answer me.” 

Brows furrowed, you ask, “What?” 

He gestures to your laptop. “What were you reading? Your nose was nearly smushed against the screen.”

You blink, trying to think of a reasonable excuse. 

“Nothing,” is all your brilliant mind can supply. 

Bucky’s eyes narrow for a few seconds, and you pray to every higher power that he won’t press further. You remain frozen under Bucky’s suspicious stare, the Old West shootout music playing in your mind. Thankfully, it seems the deities are feeling indulgent, as Bucky lets it go. 

He holds up the bags he carried in. “I brought lunch.” 

You perk up. “Did you go to that one place—?”

“With the fried rice you like so much, yes,” he finishes for you, smiling. 

“You’re the best,” you sigh. 

“I know,” he replies solemnly. 

He begins taking out the styrofoam boxes and chattering on about something dumb Steve did the other day, and you mean to listen, you really do. It’s just. That article is still lingering in your brain. There’s so many steps and hassles. Plus, it’s not cheap. It would be a hefty investment. 

You’d only researched it because, after months of contemplating the pros and cons of having a baby, you determined the pros far outweigh the cons. But then the problem was: how to make it happen. Your first thought was that you didn’t think you’d let just any man come in you, for many obvious reasons. You’d shuddered to think of it. Then there was surrogacy, which is admirable and wonderful, but you’d quickly dismissed that idea as you realized you wanted to actually carry the baby yourself. So that led you to artificial insemination. You weren’t sure how you felt about it yet. There was something a little too clinical about choosing a random man’s sperm to have turkey basted into your uterus, though.

Bucky’s still speaking as he grabs plates and forks, unaware of your inner monologue. 

“And then he got Sam involved,” he’s saying, scooping out food onto the plates, “which, as you know, I always think is a dumb thing to do.” 

“I want to have a baby,” you blurt, eyes wide at your outburst.

Bucky fumbles with the spoon, sending fried rice flying, muttering curses as he tries to catch it with no luck as it lands with a dull clunk. 

“This is… quite a mess I’ve made,” Bucky observes. His voice is a bit higher than usual. “Where’s the vacuum? Actually, do you have one of those mini ones? Or would Clorox wipes be better? You know what, I’ll do both.”

He nods decisively then turns an expectant look towards you. Wordlessly you point to your hall closet. You realize your error when he opens the closet and reaches for the vacuum on the top shelf, where the purchase you’d made months ago also rests. His fingers get caught in the plastic bag when he grabs the handheld vacuum and its contents spill out. He reaches for them, but once it registers what they are, he lets go of them like they’re on fire and nearly drops the vacuum on his foot. Heat has been steadily creeping up your cheeks, but now they’re aflame in embarrassment. The two of you stare at the baby clothes lying unassumingly on the floor for a long moment, until Bucky quietly walks back to the table with the vacuum. He flicks the switch on and it whirs to life, sucking up the bits of rice scattered around. The silence that follows after he turns it off is far too loud and you’re unable to find the right thing to say to break it. 

“So… You’re serious.”

You finally meet his eyes and sigh heavily. “Yeah.” 

He blinks a few times before clearing his throat. “I didn’t realize you were seeing someone.”

You cough lightly and start picking the peas out of your fried rice. “Well, that would be because I’m not.”

“I don’t think I follow,” he admits slowly. 

You sigh again. “Look, I’ve thought about this a lot, okay? I’ve given myself months to really make sure it’s what I want. I’m in a good place in my life to have one, Buck, and I don’t want to feel pressured to wait until I  _ might _ get married.” You lift your gaze to his. “I want to have a baby,” you repeat. “And I don’t need a partner to have one.” 

You don’t know why you feel the need to defend yourself. It’s not up to Bucky what you decide to do. You don’t need his approval, or anyone else’s. 

After a beat, Bucky emends, “Well, I mean… You  _ do… _ ”

“Oh my god, shut up, you know what I meant,” you groan as you smack his arm. 

He doesn’t even flinch, the jerk.

“Wait, so what were you reading when I got here?” he questions, brows furrowed. 

“Nothing,” you say too quickly. 

“Let me see your laptop then,” he counters as he crosses his arms over his chest. 

You flounder for a second, scoffing. “What? No!”

“It can’t be that embarrassing, just show me,” he wheedles. 

“Absolutely not.”

“Let me see!”

“It’s private!” 

“Don’t be a chicken.”

Your eye twitches. “I’m not a chicken.” Bucky smirks and before he can even open his mouth you interject with a finger pointed accusingly at his face, “Do  _ not  _ start clucking at me.” 

You glare when his smirk only widens. Slowly, he moves his arms like he’s gonna flap them like chicken wings. 

“Ugh! Fine! You wanna know what I was reading?” You slide your laptop closer to open it, turning it to where he can read it. “There.” 

Bucky scans the page, then scans it again, eyes flicking all over like it’s in a different language. His cheeks grow redder and redder as he reads and you get a small sense of satisfaction at the sight. 

“Wow,” he mutters finally. “You’re turkey baster serious.”

“James Buchanan Barnes,” you say, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

“What?” he asks innocently. 

When you make eye contact with him, you purse your lips to keep the laughter threatening to bubble out at bay, but the ever growing smile on Bucky’s face is hard to resist and you find yourself snorting a laugh that leads to uncontrollable giggles. Bucky’s laughing with you, his eyes crinkling on the sides. The tension you hadn’t realized you held in your shoulders loosens, and you nudge his knee with yours in silent thanks. 

“So,” he says. 

“So,” you repeat, dragging it out, drumming your fingers on the tabletop. “I’ve been doing research, checking out my options, and while AI—artificial insemination—seems like the best choice… I don’t know, there’s just something too clinical about it. It doesn’t feel right. I know I said I don’t need a partner, and I  _ don’t _ , but. Having absolutely no connection is  _ weird _ .” 

You shrug, waving a hand as if to say  _ oh well  _ and pick up your plate to carry it over to the microwave. You reheat Bucky’s food while you’re up, and then you both start eating in comfortable silence. He gets halfway through his meal before speaking up.

“Have you… I mean, did you think about… I’ve heard that, uh. Some people ask another person…” 

He trails off, clearly frustrated that he can’t just spit out what he’s trying to say. You think you understand, though. 

“I read up on surrogacy,” you say, biting your lip. “But I don’t think I’d want someone else to carry my baby.” 

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean—I wasn’t suggesting, er, that. Not that there’s anything wrong with it,” he rushes to say. 

You tilt your head. “What  _ did _ you mean?”

“Well,” Bucky starts, stilted, licking his lips. “For the AI, have you considered… you know. Asking someone you’re close with?” 

You frown.

“For—for the sperm,” he clarifies, shifting in his seat. 

“ _ Oh _ ,” you breathe, blinking rapidly. “Um. No? I wouldn’t even know who I  _ could _ ask, to be honest. That’s quite the request, you know? Who would—“

“Me,” he interrupts, determined and cheeks flushed, “I would.” 

Your own cheeks heat up. “Oh,” you say again. 

Not once had it crossed your mind to ask anyone to help you, but you especially would have never given thought to asking Bucky. For a list of reasons. With “it’s  _ Bucky” _ being right at the very top. Like, okay, yes, you’re in love with him, but after two years you’ve learned to stop dreaming, stop hoping. If the attraction was mutual he would have shown it by now, right? But on top of that, his friendship means the world to you and you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize it.

“Bucky,” you start carefully, “this… It’s something you should think about for a while. You can’t just jump into it.” 

He contemplates that for a second. “You’re right,” he concedes. “But… Okay listen, this is important for you. It’s going to change your life, and you said it yourself, not having a connection to the sperm donor feels wrong. You’re my best friend, alright? I—care about you. You should pick someone you can trust.” 

He clenches his jaw after he finishes speaking. You sort of hate the way your heart both flutters and plummets at his words. It’s nice to know you matter to him, just not in the way you’ve wanted for too long.

If you’re honest with yourself, Bucky would be a great choice as a donor. He’s in great health, has strong features that would look wonderful on any gender. But… Would you be able to handle the repercussions of having his child? Would you be able to look at your baby and see those features without it sending a pang through your chest every single time? You can’t say for certain. Yet, the chance to have that type of connection with him, selfishly, sounds too good to pass up. 

“At least think about it for a few days,” you murmur. 

It’s the most acceptance he’ll get and he knows it. A smile blooms across his face and you have to swallow down the rising emotions within you. 

***

Surprisingly, it doesn’t take long for you to find out that there are at-home kits for artificial insemination that are much easier (and cheaper). It’s easy to settle on that, clicking on the info to order your kit. You read through the instructions online and it all sounds simple enough, until you get to the part where it says that having an orgasm after injection helps increase your chances. Blinking, cheeks heating, you read that step several times, but it doesn’t change. 

You… You can’t masturbate with Bucky’s sperm inside you. That’s a line you refuse to cross. Besides, he’s a super soldier with super soldier serum running through his veins! You probably— _ definitely _ —won’t need to take that step. It’ll be fine. 

Once the kit arrives, you call Bucky and ask him to come over so you can explain the process to him. Since he’s only across the hall of your apartment building, he’s there a moment later, letting himself in with his key. 

“Let’s make a baby,” he greets. 

“Hold your horses,” you reply, fighting back a laugh. “I gotta walk you through everything first.”

He plops himself down next to you on your couch. “Fine, fine. Go ahead.” 

Squaring your shoulders, you begin telling him how it all works, and what parts he is key for. You speak through your blushing cheeks, avoiding eye contact, when you explain that he’ll need to masturbate into a clean, sterile cup. You leave out how it’s suggested for you to also masturbate, deciding it’s not pertinent information. 

“When do we start?” he asks once you’re done. 

“I have to take an ovulation test first to find out the best days for me to conceive, but once I do that we’ll be able to, um.” You gesture vaguely. “I’ll be able to do the injections.” 

He nods. “Alright.” He looks at you then, taking your hand in his and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll be here every step of the way, okay?” 

“I know,” you say, smiling. “Thank you, Bucky.” 

“You’re welcome,” he returns softly. 

“No, really, _thank_ _you_ ,” you assert. “This is a lot to take on and I can never fully repay you.” 

Bucky shakes his head. “I want you to be happy, and I can see that having this baby is going to do that. I’ll do whatever I need to to ensure you get it.” 

You pull him into a hug, willing yourself to not cry. You’re not sure he’ll ever understand what this means for you, personally, or that you’d ever find a way to express it. He’s giving you so much more than just a baby.

***

The first injection time comes and you find yourself fidgeting where you sit as you wait for Bucky to bring over the, uh…  _ sample _ . You do your best to not think about what he’s doing in his apartment, to not think about exactly how he’s collecting his sperm. 

_ Now is not the time _ , you tell yourself sternly.  _ Get it together _ . 

A timid knock at your door alerts you to his presence. The fact he’s knocking says a lot about his own level of awkwardness about the situation. 

His cheeks are pink when you open the door. 

“Uh, hi.”

“Hi,” you return. 

He clears his throat and lifts the small cup in his hand. “Here’s… well, you know.” 

You gingerly take it from him, not knowing what else to say, but when he smiles somewhat crookedly and turns to leave, you find yourself asking, “Will you stay?” 

Bucky’s steps pause. “Huh?” 

“Will you—I mean… Do you mind staying?” You shift on your feet. “This is a big moment for me. I-I don’t want to do it alone.” 

“Are you asking me to…?” He trails off awkwardly. 

“Oh! God, no, I wouldn’t—no,” you assure, huffing a laugh, “I’m doing the injection, I just need a little moral support. That’s all.”

Bucky smiles. “Sure, I’ll stay.” 

Relief floods through you. You step aside to let him in, closing the door behind him. He follows you to your bedroom and just before entering you stop in your tracks, nearly causing Bucky to bump into you. 

“Um,” you mutter, turning to him. “You’ll have to, ah, sit out here,” you explain. “I have to be lying down…”

Understanding dawns. “Oh! Right, right, of course. Sorry.” 

“I’ll let you know when I’m done,” you promise. 

He nods and watches you close the door. You walk over to your bed and sit down, glancing at the syringe you’ll be using and biting the inside of your cheek. 

This is it. There’s really no going back after this. Sure, you may not get pregnant this first time, but Bucky’s already said he’d help you for as long as it took. It’s just… very real now. You don’t feel any doubts, though. You want this. 

With shaking hands you take the lid off the cup and pick up the syringe. You remember the instructions, making sure there’s as little air sucked in as possible when you draw out the semen, and getting rid of the few air bubbles that you see. You grab your pillows and lie down, propping them beneath you to lift your hips. 

“Here I go,” you mumble to yourself, taking a deep breath and releasing it. 

A couple minutes later, the syringe is empty and you’ve got your legs pulled up to your chest. You cover yourself with your blanket and call out Bucky’s name. 

“You okay?” you hear through the door.

“Will you come here, please?” you ask. 

He walks in carefully, making sure you’re decently covered before entering fully, wisely not commenting on your position. “Well?” 

“I did it,” you whisper. 

He stays quiet, letting you parse through your thoughts. You blink when you feel tears threatening to gather in your eyes. He’s beside you in an instant, crawling in the bed and lying down, taking your hand in his. 

“Congratulations,” he says. 

“Don’t congratulate me yet,” you reply, sniffing and wiping at your eyes. 

“Still,” he presses. “You’re one step closer now.” 

He pulls your hand up and kisses the back of it. You give him a watery smile. The two of you lay there in silence for a moment before Bucky breaks it. 

“This isn’t how I pictured myself making a baby.”

It startles a laugh out of you and Bucky smiles, pleased to have helped in easing the atmosphere. He distracts you with idle conversation after that, talking about his plans for the upcoming weekend, asking about yours, tells you about the newest stupid thing Sam did; he talks and talks until your anxiety is gone and then stays to cook dinner for you. 

Your hug when he gets ready to head back to his apartment lasts a couple minutes. Bucky quietly allows it, dropping a kiss on your forehead when you pull away. 

“Same time next week?” he jokes, making you crack a smile. 

“Good _ bye,  _ Bucky,” you reply as you close your door.

“Bye, sweetheart,” he returns over his shoulder. 

***

Weeks pass. More injections. Pregnancy tests taken. 

But nothing happens. All of your tests come back negative. 

When reading up on AI, and pregnancy in general, you’d understood that there was a chance it wouldn’t happen right away. You thought you were fine with that, that you’d be alright with the waiting and all. 

Looking at your growing collection of negative tests, however, there’s a sense of dread building within you. You do your best to quell it, telling yourself there’s no need to stress over it. Yet. 

_ Besides _ , your mind supplies in an overly cheerful manner,  _ there’s still one more thing to try! _

***

The next time Bucky brings over his sample, he lets himself in, like always, and passes along the cup with an encouraging smile. You try to smile back, but it feels more like a grimace. He doesn’t notice, thankfully. 

When he goes to make himself comfortable to wait, however, you’re reminded that you haven’t told him about the, uh… change in procedure. 

You clear your throat delicately. “I don’t think you’ll need to be here this time.” 

Bucky frowns. “Why not?” 

“Because…” You trail off, cheeks pinking. 

“I promised you I’d be here every step of the way,” he recalls for you. “I intend to keep that promise.” 

You wince. “I really appreciate where your heart is, Buck, I really do, but I literally cannot let you be here for this injection.” 

“Why not?” 

You look heavenward for mercy. “I have to…”

When you don’t finish your sentence, Bucky raises a single brow, gesturing for you to go on. 

“You have to… what?” 

You huff. “I have to orgasm, okay?” 

His eyes go a little bit wide, but you can tell he tries to control his reaction. He swallows, shifting where he sits on the couch. 

“Oh,” he mumbles. “Have… have you had to do that before?”

“No. Well, I mean, it was  _ suggested _ , but I never…”

His eyebrows furrow. “Does it help or something?”

You absently scratch your neck. “They say it increases the chances of conception.”

“But you haven’t been doing… that.”

“I didn’t think I’d need to.”

Bucky inhales like he’s going to say something, but doesn’t.

“Yeah, so, I don’t think you should be here,” you utter, quickly adding, “No offense.” 

“No, yeah, that’s fair, um. I’ll just—I’ll head back to my apartment,” he states as he stands. “You can—I mean, if you still want me to—I can come back over? After you… uh…” 

“I’ll let you know,” you reply, voice tight and high. 

He nods, looking lost and like he wants to say more but thinks better of it. Finally, he mutters a soft  _ bye  _ and is out the door. 

Alone now, your stomach feels like it’s tying itself in knots, and your heart is doing it’s damnedest to beat out of your chest. You try to tell yourself that it’s just another injection, but you know it’s not. 

Laying down on your bed, syringe in hand, is much more nerve wracking than before. On your left lies a new addition to your routine. You don’t know why you’re acting like such a prude all the sudden. It’s not like you’ve never masturbated before. Though, you suppose the major difference is that you didn’t have Bucky’s sperm hangin’ out in your vagina all those other times while you did it. 

“Quit being such a goober about this,” you admonish yourself. 

This has to be done for a reason. If you want to have a baby—and you do, very badly—then you’re gonna have to deal with the process. 

Once you’ve injected the sperm, you reach for your bullet vibrator next to your left hand. The instructions say not to insert anything, only to stimulate your clit. You try to clear your head, think of it as a chore or something, but it’s hard not to think of a certain someone. 

The vibrator buzzes with the press of a button. You adjust your hips, making sure they’re tilted, then bring the vibrator to your clit. The first touch makes your stomach tense and thighs spasm. You close your eyes, running the toy along your slit. You really don’t want to drag this out, would prefer to get it over with as quickly as possible, but your mind begins running away with images. 

Bucky, settled between your spread thighs, his metal hand resting on one of them, the other controlling the vibrator. You imagine he’d tease you, trail it along the crease of your thighs, over your hips; everywhere  _ but _ where you wanted it. Bucky would probably give in once you whine and beg enough, hold the vibrator directly to your clit, drink in your cries of pleasure like the finest whisky. He’d mutter soft but firm encouragement, tell you how good you’re doing, how good you sound. He’d start circling the vibrator, change the setting to a higher one just to hear you whimper. His metal hand would run up your torso to pinch at your nipples for added stimulation. 

When you imagine him leaning down to add his tongue into the mix, your mind blanks as your climax hits you, a ragged moan forcing its way out of your throat. You’re quick to turn the vibrator off and toss it to the floor, deciding you’ll worry about cleaning it later, chest heaving as you pant for breath after an intense orgasm. 

You know your face is red, and not just from masturbating. Shame and embarrassment rush in, mocking you for using Bucky to rub one out. You’d given in to the fantasy so easily. It’s not as if it’s the first time you’ve thought of him while pleasuring yourself, but the context this time is completely different, and you feel guilty. Admittedly, it’s probably irrational. 

That doesn’t stop you from cringing at your actions. 

***

You’re sure you’ve bought out the entire pregnancy test section from the convenience store down the block. Currently, there are six different brands in front of you, all promising the most accurate results. 

Bucky is sitting in your bedroom, quietly waiting for you to pee on all of them so you can both find out what they say. You chug the last bit of your third bottle of water even though your bladder is fit to burst at any moment. Turning the faucet on, you make quick work of the tests, then wash your hands. 

And wait. 

You call Bucky into the bathroom with you. The two of you sit on the edge of your bathtub, counting down the minutes. It seems like hours have passed when you’re finally sure you can check them. 

The first one is negative, and so is the second. The third, however, reads positive. Your heart begins racing, clutching at the counter, but before your hopes get too carried away you read the rest. To your dismay, they all are negative. You stare down at them all, eyes falling on the loan positive test multiple times, knowing that it’s likely a false positive, yet stupidly hoping otherwise. 

Your chin wobbles. Bucky hugs you from behind, resting his cheek on your shoulder. 

“What do I do, Bucky?” 

At your broken whisper, he sighs. “I don’t know, sweetheart.” 

Neither of you know what to say or do after that. Bucky continues offering quiet comfort, a solid presence at your back, and you’re grateful. Eventually, he leads you out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, sitting you down at the table as he starts preparing dinner. 

When you’re both eating the spaghetti he made, he breaks the silence. 

“Do you think…” he starts, pausing to think of how to phrase his question before carefully carrying on. “Are you going to stop?” 

“I don’t want to,” you answer, the implied  _ but _ hanging heavy in the air. 

Bucky sits his fork down. “I know you want this, very much.” He pushes his hair out of his face as he leans forward, elbows settling on the table. “But I hate seeing how sad you get when the tests come out negative. I feel so… powerless. Like I could be doing more or something.” 

“You’re doing all you can do, Bucky,” you assure. 

“That’s the thing, though. I don’t think I am.” 

You frown. “What do you mean?” 

He licks his lips, crossing his arms. “I think we should have sex.” 

Your fork drops with a clang, eyes going wide. 

“I apologize for the blunt delivery,” he states with a wince. “But think about it. You’ve only been using my sperm from a syringe, and up until the last time, you hadn’t been, um, orgasming with it.” You flush and look anywhere but at him. “I just wonder if maybe trying the actual physical act of sex would give you better results.” 

“Bucky,” you say, opening and closing your mouth a couple times before shaking your head. “It’s one thing for you to offer your sperm, which I’m thankful for, really, but… Having sex?”

“I’ve already told you I’m willing to do whatever I need to,” he retorts earnestly. “Your happiness means a lot to me, okay? I hate sitting around and watching you break your heart every week. You’ve tried it your way, now I think we should try mine.” 

“I don’t know,” you hesitate, chewing on the inside of your cheek, knee beginning to bounce under the table. 

His hand slides onto your knee, stilling the movement as he ducks his head to meet your gaze. His eyes are impossibly sincere and your resolve crumbles in an instant. 

“It won’t… It’s not going to change anything,” he assures. “I won’t allow it.” 

You swallow roughy. He may not, but your heart is going to take a rough beating. It’s going to be hopeless trying to overcome your inevitable emotions. Even so, your longing for a baby eclipses this fact. Now that you’ve imagined holding your child in your arms, raising them and loving them, you can’t go back. Not anymore. 

“Okay,” you allow, softly.

Bucky’s shoulders relax, lips tipping up into a smile.

You’re so fucked. (Pun intended.)

***

Two nights later, you’re pacing in your bedroom, impatiently waiting for Bucky to arrive. You’d been unsure whether or not you should dress up. You didn’t see the point, truthfully, but a small part of you wondered what his reaction would be if he saw you all done up in lingerie. At the moment, you were in an oversized t-shirt and pajama shorts. _It’s Bucky_ , you think, _and this isn’t a normal situation,_ _it doesn’t matter what I’m wearing_.

You hear his key turning in the lock then and your heart begins hammering away. He calls your name as he enters. 

“In here,” you reply, twisting your fingers nervously. 

He walks into your room looking just as on edge as you. He also seems to have had the same idea about his attire, comfortable in his white tee and sweatpants. His feet are bare and that feels way more intimate than it has any right to. 

“Hey,” he greets.

“Hi.” 

You bite your lip, eyes flittering around your room and back to Bucky. He huffs. 

“This is ridiculous,” he declares, “It’s just us.” 

“Right,” you nod. 

“It’s not gonna be weird.”

“Nope.”

His jaw ticks. You stare back at him. It only takes a moment for you to realize that  _ somebody _ has to make the first move, so you steel yourself and turn on your heel, walking towards your bed. 

“I’m keeping my shirt on,” you announce as you unceremoniously drop onto the mattress, grabbing your pillows to stuff under you. 

Bucky follows at a sedate pace, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He pauses next to you, taking a second to roll his shoulders, then climbs in and settles in front of your bent legs. He places his hands on your knees. 

“May I?” he asks. 

Mouth suddenly dry, you nod. He moves his hands to the waistband of your shorts and tugs. You lift your hips to help him slide them, along with your underwear, down and off. Gently, he spreads your legs. 

Your breathing has picked up, eyes firmly trained on the ceiling. You know you’re already wet and are blessedly thankful he doesn’t mention it. The first slide of his fingers has you inhaling sharply. He slowly gathers your slick and trails it up to your clit, lightly circling it. Your mind recalls your fantasy, but you quickly shove it back to the depths of your thoughts. 

He spreads your legs more, adjusting his position between them. His fingers move down until he can sink one into you. You gasp, hands shooting out to grasp your sheets. He wastes no time and begins thrusting his finger. 

It becomes quickly apparent to you that it’s going to be  _ very _ difficult to hold back any noise or reactions. 

When he decides it’s time to add another finger, you feel yourself clench around them, and his soft  _ fuck _ does not go unnoticed. 

“Can I…?” he asks, but doesn’t finish his thought, making you have to look at him. 

He’s staring at his fingers, watching them pump in and out of you, half bent over like he wants to… 

He meets your eyes then, licking his lips.

_ Oh _ .

Swallowing around the sudden lump in your throat,  _ knowing _ you’re probably going to regret it, you nod.

He’s leaning over and sucking on your clit before you can even blink. You cry out, thighs trying to clamp around his head, but his metal hand shoots up to hold you open. It makes you squirm, fisting the sheets even tighter. His fingers curl inside you as his tongue licks around them and you whine, high and needy. His mouth is back on your clit, tongue swiping over it, sucking it with loud, obscene noises. 

His metal hand grabs the hem of your shirt, shoves it up until it’s bunched underneath your breasts. Those fingers ghost back down your torso, goosebumps erupting in their wake. 

He speeds up his thrusts and your hand flies down to grip his hair. You don’t think you’re meant to hear the quiet grunt he lets out, but you do, and it has you panting even harder. Your orgasm is building fast, and you pull on his hair in warning. 

“Bucky,” you say on a gasp. 

Using his arm to hold you down, his metal hand joins, his thumb swiping over your clit now as he dips his head to slide his tongue in alongside his fingers. It draws a yell out of you, the ever expanding pleasure within you bursting into the hardest orgasm of your life. You know you’re moaning, bucking into the sensations coursing through you, and you’d feel abashed if you didn’t feel so fucking good. 

Before you can become too sensitive, Bucky withdraws his fingers and sits up. You can’t even catch your breath, though, because in the next second he’s whipping his t-shirt off and shoving his sweatpants down far enough to free his cock. Your thighs  _ do _ clamp closed then, and he tries and fails to keep his smirk hidden. 

“Oh, shut up,” you wheeze. 

“Didn’t say anything,” he counters. 

He doesn’t let you argue, choosing that moment to shuffle closer and line up with your opening. Cautiously, he eases himself inside, inch by inch. Your mouth drops open, brows furrowing as he fills you, stretching you so wonderfully. When he’s in as far as he can go, the breath wooshes out of him, his head falling back. You know he’s trying to be polite and let you adjust, but—

“Oh my god,  _ move _ ,” you demand. 

He huffs a laugh, dropping his heavy lidded gaze to yours. “Bossy.” 

“Did you really expect anything else— _ oh! _ ” 

The grin he aims your way after grinding into you is downright sinful. You mentally tell yourself to kick him for that later. 

He grabs your hips and the pillows and settles you in his lap, changing the angle, then pulls out and glides back in, creating a painstakingly slow rhythm. 

You have to close your eyes. You can’t look at him anymore. You knew he was probably a god in bed, but to now have firsthand experience? There was no way you’d be able to fuck anyone else without comparing them. 

His hands on your hips tighten, the only warning you get before his thrusts turn sharp. 

“Fuck,” you cry out, your hands reaching up to grip the pillow beneath your head. 

The sound of your skin meeting his is harsh in the otherwise quiet room. Well, okay,  _ you’re _ not exactly being quiet, but you can’t be blamed for that. Bucky, however, is nearly silent. The only thing you hear from him is heavy breathing. You wonder if he’s holding back, the thought crossing your mind for a split second, and then you’re clenching around his cock, trying to see if you can gain a reaction. And  _ boy _ , do you get one. 

He grunts and sucks in a breath, lips parting as his eyes squeeze shut. His hips pick up their pace and hair falls into his face. You find yourself wishing he was closer so you could brush it out of the way. 

_ Stop it _ , you scold yourself. 

He pauses to grind into you again, your walls fluttering around his throbbing cock, and you both sigh. Bucky leans forward then, hooking your legs into the crooks of his elbows, and resumes his brutal pace. 

“ _ Oh _ ,” you whimper. 

The angle is heavenly, his cock dragging along a spot inside you that you thought nobody else could find. Unable to help yourself, you clutch at his back, nails digging in. 

“Shit,” he groans, thrusts faltering. 

He lets go of one of your legs to slip his hand between you, rubbing at your clit and sending you that much closer to your next orgasm. He can tell you’re close, but you’re gonna need something to push you over the edge. He leans down even closer, breath fanning out against your cheek.

“C’mon,” he pants. “Let go.” 

You shiver when his tongue flicks your earlobe and sucks it into his mouth, keening as the pressure builds. He thrusts harder, faster, and when you grasp his hair and pull, he growls and latches on to your shoulder, biting down. You gasp from the added pain and then you’re coming, shuddering and whining through your release. Bucky isn’t far behind, raising up and fucking into you savagely before pausing abruptly, groaning as he finally comes. He lazily thrusts a few more times to draw it out, then stops, stilling his cock inside you. 

Your hair is sticking to your forehead, as well as your shirt to your clammy back, breathing in lungfuls of air. Bucky is softly caressing your thighs, letting out shaky breaths as your pussy continues to flutter around him. 

It takes several moments for you to gather your wits. You are truly and completely fucked now, in every sense of the word. 

“Well…” You trail off, voice scratchy. 

“That was…”

“Mhm,” you mumble. 

Bucky sighs heavily. “Let’s hope it worked this time.” 

You hum. “Thank you for your service.” 

You yelp when he pinches your hip, kicking him in retaliation. The jostling reminds you that he’s still buried balls deep inside you. 

“Um.” You cough lightly. “You wanna, you know… pull out?” 

He looks down where you’re connected like it hadn’t dawned on him. “Oh, uh. Well, I thought maybe it could, like. Help.” 

His gaze stays locked, fingers flexing on your hips, and you feel like squirming again. 

“I think it’s good,” you say quietly. 

Bucky finally glances back up, cheeks pinking. He clears his throat. 

“Right.” 

Carefully, he eases his softening cock out of you, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from making a noise. 

You can’t hold back yours, though, gasping once he’s gone. You feel unbearably empty, but refrain from doing something stupid, like beg him to fuck you again.

Bucky’s intense eyes stare at your pussy until you reach for the throw blanket next to you. He watches you throw it over your lap, drawing your legs up to your chest, and takes that as his cue. 

“Okay, so.” He stops, climbs off your bed and pulls his sweatpants back up. “This was—I mean, if it doesn’t take this time, we can… try again.” 

“Yeah,” you mutter. “Sounds good.” 

He nods, bending to pick up his discarded t-shirt. “Great. I’ll just, er, see myself out, I guess.” 

You nod, sending a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes in his direction. He seems to contemplate something for a second, then leans down to kiss your forehead before saying a quick goodbye and leaving.

As soon as you hear your apartment door shut, you let your tears fall. 

***

It’s not really like you mean to avoid him after that. Honest. You simply become busy, that’s all. You don’t go out of your way by taking the stairs in your apartment building to avoid possibly bumping into him in the elevator. No, you take the stairs because you could use the cardio. It’s important you stay healthy right now. And when he texts you to ask if you want to have dinner, you can’t help that you’ve got work to catch up on—all five times he asks.

Okay, so, that’s a lie. 

You’re totally avoiding him. But what on  _ earth _ are you supposed to  _ say _ to him? You don’t think you’d even be able to look him in the eye anymore, not after the fuck of your goddamn life. 

That night confirmed what you already knew for the last two years: Bucky absolutely ruined you for anyone else. 

More than anything, you were angry with yourself. He’d only offered because you weren’t getting your desired results the other way. You should have been able to separate your feelings and emotions from all of it. After all, none of this was about whatever you feel towards Bucky. 

You try telling yourself to get over it. He’s your best friend, you can’t just cut him off because you’re a pansy. 

_ I just need some time _ , you reason. You can give yourself a few days to wallow and then you can reach out to him and pretend like everything is fine. Because it  _ is _ . 

***

Flash forward two weeks and you walk into your apartment to find Bucky sitting on your couch, an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Oh, good, you’re still alive,” he drawls.

His tone suggests slight annoyance. You suppose you deserve that.

“Hey,” you say after a pause.

He stares at you for a moment longer before speaking again. “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t let it get weird.”

**_You_ ** _ agreed _ , you almost say, thankfully biting it back. You drop your purse on the entryway table, sliding your shoes off and making your way over to sit next to him.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. You tug your sweater sleeves down and tuck your feet beneath you. “I haven’t ever… been intimate with a friend before.”

It’s a half truth, at least. You haven’t had sex with a friend before. Or, well, not one you had feelings for. 

“You could’ve just told me,” he replies, reaching for your hand. 

You nod. “I know, and I should have, I just. Things are all out of whack lately with the whole… trying to get pregnant thing.”

“If I overstepped in any way—” Bucky starts, but you’re quick to interrupt. 

“You didn’t,” you promise. “You’ve been nothing but fantastic throughout this whole ordeal. Honestly, Bucky, you’ve done way more than anyone else would have in this situation. I just had a lot going on in my head and let it get the best of me. I’m fine, I swear.”

He searches your eyes and must find what he’s looking for.

“Don’t shut me out again,” he pleads.

Heart cracking in your chest, you can only nod, shuffling closer to pull him into a hug. He buries his face in your neck and holds on tight.

***

Another week passes. Bucky is with you as you wait for the results of the latest pregnancy test. He’s reassured you that you’ll keep trying until it happens if it doesn’t work this time. 

When the timer on your phone goes off, you release the breath you’ve been holding. You take tentative steps over to the sink and gingerly pick up the test. 

_ Positive. _

Your stomach swoops. It’s positive. You check again, reading the digitized screen, but it stays the same.  _ Positive _ . Holy shit.

“Okay, wait, I need to do more. I can’t get my hopes up again,” you mutter, rushing to open the cabinet under your sink to dig out several more tests.

You don’t even wait for Bucky to leave before you’re peeing on the other sticks. He’s seen it all anyway, and he doesn’t seem to care, sitting on the edge of your tub with an anxious expression. The downside is that you have to wait another few minutes for these and you can’t sit still, pacing back and forth in the small space of your bathroom.

The timer goes off again. You feel like you’re going to throw up when you finally work up the courage to look down. 

Every single one of them… Positive. 

A shocked, happy laugh escapes you. You cover your mouth, turning to Bucky with wide eyes.

He rises to his full height, coming closer and peering down at the tests, then back to your teary eyed expression.

“Did we…?”

Words failing you, you nod, giggling in astonishment. Bucky’s face breaks into the biggest, most devastating smile. His happiness is palpable and you’re overcome with emotion.

Your hands are gripping his face and angling it to align your lips to his before you register what you’re doing. He freezes and you hurriedly pull away, taking a few steps back.

“I’m so sorry, I-I don’t know why—”

“Shut up,” he cuts you off, closing the gap between you in a single stride.

He kisses you like his life depends on it, pressing your bodies as close as possible, his hands cupping your cheeks. You clutch his shirt desperately. He steals the breath straight from your lungs when he swipes at the seam of your lips with his tongue, moaning happily when you allow him access. A feeble whine from you after he flicks his tongue against yours makes him break the kiss. 

“I have a confession,” he breathes into the miniscule space between your mouths. 

“What?” you question distractedly.

“I love you.” 

Your gaze shoots up to his, astounded. He brushes stray hairs off your forehead, runs his thumbs softly under your eyes. 

“I’ve been selfish this whole time,” he reveals. “I couldn’t let you choose some random stranger to be your sperm donor, couldn’t bear the thought of you carrying their baby, because I’ve been in love with you since the moment I met you. I wanted to be the one. And I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, but I’m not sorry I did it.”

You’re hearing the words, yet your brain can’t seem to make sense of them. Surely you’re hearing him wrong. You can’t possibly have this too, right? But he’s here, very real beneath your hands, looking at you like you’re his world. 

“Bucky... “ You trail off, struggling to find the right words. “I-I’ve loved you for so long now, I didn’t think you… I couldn’t let myself hope.”

He grins, relieved, planting a few chaste kisses to your mouth. “I know this entire circumstance is completely backwards, but I want you, and I want this baby. I  _ meant _ it when I said I’m not going anywhere.”

Fresh tears gather in the corners of your eyes. “Are you sure?” you still ask.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

You kiss him then, uncaring of the tears that trickle down. The only thing you are focused on is the way his hands trail down your back, pausing to squeeze your ass, then grip underneath to lift you. Your legs wrap around him, arms locked behind his head as he heads for your bed. He makes a point of throwing your extra pillows on the floor before settling between your thighs and kissing the hell out of you. 

He pulls away only to undress you and himself, but he’s always back as quickly as possible, lips pressing kisses wherever he can reach. You impatiently tug at him until his lips are attached to yours. The way he fucks his tongue into your mouth is nothing short of indecent and it sends a rush of pure want all the way to your core. When you bury your fingers in hair, gripping it tight, he grunts, biting your lip. You whimper and he grins as he pulls away.

“You make the most beautiful sounds,” he praises, his hands beginning to sweep down and up, tickling under your breasts.

His thumb and forefinger pinch one nipple and you gasp, back arching off your mattress. He repeats it on the other side, just to hear the same noise. 

“Bucky, please,” you beg.

“Please what?” he prods. His hands drift further to the creases of your thighs, spreading them open. “What do you need?”

You whine, canting your hips up. “ _ You _ , I need you, please.”

“You have me, sweetheart.” He tilts his head and you make a noise of frustration. “Use your words, darlin’.”

“Fuck me, please,” you burst out, feeling your pussy clench around nothing.

Bucky smiles, slow and torturous. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you? Fuck you until you’re so full of my come that it drips down your beautiful thighs?”

“Oh god,” you mumble.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he teases.

His fingers slide down your slit, gathering your slick then thrusts two fingers in at once. You groan brokenly, shifting your hips to try and get more friction, but he holds them down with his metal arm. Agonizingly slow, he begins fucking you with his fingers. It’s good, it’s  _ amazing _ , but it’s not  _ enough _ . He takes his precious time fingering you and you’re sure you’re going to lose your mind before the day is done. 

“You have no idea how incredible you felt around my cock,” he tells you in a stupid conversational tone. “I was trying to think of any excuse I could come up with to have you at least once more.”

He shifts until his mouth is directly above where you’re dripping for him. He waits until you make eye contact with him. 

“But now I’m gonna spend the rest of my life making you come apart on my cock any chance I get.”

You hardly have any functioning brain cells at the moment, but even if you could form a coherent sentence you wouldn’t have been able to say it, because then he’s descending and all you can feel is the wet warmth of his mouth.

He definitely doesn’t hold back this time, that much is apparent in the way he devours you, lips and tongue drawing out noises you’ve never heard yourself make, pressing his face so far into your pussy that he has to come up for air. His mouth and chin shine when you chance a look down, and when you clench on his fingers his smile goes smug at the corners.

He plants kisses along your hip bones, the insides of your thighs, around where his fingers are buried within you. He curls them, in search of the spot he found last time. He knows he found it when you try to close your thighs around his head and cry out. Now that he's found it, he angles to brush it on every thrust of his fingers and attaches his mouth back on your clit. 

You chant his name, nearly sobbing as you approach your climax, until finally you fly over the edge. Your vision blurs and you’re not sure if you’re making any noise now, unable to hear past the rushing in your ears. Bucky helps you ride it out until you’re shuddering from sensitivity. 

He kisses your thighs again, trailing them up your stomach and between the valley of your breasts. 

“So good, did so well,” he’s muttering.

Weakly, you lift your hands to trace them down his toned stomach and around his back, down further so you can cop a feel of your own, smiling at his grunt of surprise.

“That was great and all,” you state, arching your back so your chest presses against his, “but I do believe I asked you to fuck me.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Who said I was done with you?” It’s apparently a rhetorical question, as he continues before you get a chance to reply. “I’m gonna fuck you until you come, and then I’m gonna  _ keep _ fucking you until you come again, and only then will I come so deep inside you there’ll be zero doubt I’ve put a baby there.”

Your legs are lifted and thrown over his shoulders in a blink, his cock pushing into your pussy, dragging out a high-pitched moan from you. There’s barely a pause and then he’s fucking you, just like you asked. The pace is brutal right from the start, a steady rhythm that has you mewling and writhing in pleasure. Bucky is watching his cock as he thrusts in and out of you, his mouth hanging open slightly as he pants. He hikes your hips up a little higher and you jolt through your startled moan. This angle is  _ divine _ and the telltale signs of your second orgasm start tingling at the base of your spine. 

“Can feel you,” Bucky breathes, “so close. C’mon, let me feel you.”

He pulls you down on his cock, grinding into you, his thumb reaching to rub tight circles over your clit. You sob through your release, shuddering against Bucky as you clench around him. He groans, still barely moving as you come down from your high. 

“Fuck,” he grunts. “Come here.”

He helps you sit up, still seated on his cock, making you both hiss from your movement. Your arms automatically wrap around his shoulders and his around your waist. He kisses you so sweetly, a stark contradiction to the way he just fucked you. When you pull away, resting your foreheads together, he smiles.

“Hi.”

You crack a smile. “Hi.”

“Ready for more?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You think you got it in you?” you tease as you play with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

The light smack to your ass surprises you and you let out a soft gasp, hands tugging his hair harshly. Bucky’s eyes light up.

“Interesting,” he muses.

Another slap, a little harder than the first, and you’re whimpering, your walls clenching around his still hard cock. 

“I’ll play with that later,” he promises, voice breathy.

You bury your face in his neck and start shifting your hips. He takes the hint, gathering you as close as he can and thrusts up into you. He can’t pull out as far this way, but the snap of his hips more than makes up for it. You mouth at his collarbone messily, kissing and licking your way up to his jaw, biting marks wherever you see fit. You make it up to his mouth and he kisses you, wet and filthy. You suck on his tongue and a ragged moan claws its way out of his throat. Needing air, you pull away.

“It’s a good thing you love me back,” you whisper in his ear. “Nobody else could ever compare to you.”

He growls, fisting your hair and yanking your head back to look him in the eye. 

“Nobody  _ will _ ever compare,” he corrects. 

You moan. “Yes,” you agree, whining, “No one else could’ve given me a baby.”

Bucky thrusts harder and faster at your words. You’re picking up on a few things and you can’t say they aren’t doing it for you either.

“Filled me up so good, fucked me so well. Gonna be round with your baby soon.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he keens, hurrying to lay you flat on your back so he can fuck you easier.

The sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, your cries of pleasure mixing in with Bucky’s panting breaths. His grip on you tightens almost painfully as he chases both yours and his orgasm. You’re sure to have bruises tomorrow and you will wear them with pride. 

“C’mon, Buck, wanna feel you too,” you beg. 

His thumb finds your swollen clit again. It’s so sensitive now, too sensitive, and without any warning, you come. You spasm around Bucky and he swears under his breath, thrusts going sloppy. With a final groan, he comes in you, his hips moving seemingly on their own as he draws out both your pleasures. Slowly, he comes to a stop, but he leaves his cock buried in you like he did before. 

You know you’re gonna feel too empty when he does pull out, so you don’t mind sitting like this for a while. Bucky softly runs his hands across every inch of your skin he can touch and you bask in the affection. You card your fingers through his sweaty hair, smiling when he hums happily. It takes only a minute for you to notice the way his hands migrate to your stomach, but when you do you kiss his shoulder. 

“Maybe we should go again later,” you suggest faintly.

Bucky grins. “We can do it a hundred more times if you want.”

“Guess I better enjoy it while I can.”

His smile goes soft at the edges. 

It’s not lost on you how incredibly crazy all of this is. There will undoubtedly be a conversation, a much needed one that isn’t going to be simple, but is necessary. 

For now, though, you bask in Bucky’s warmth and loving embrace.

***

Keys jingle as they unlock the door and you perk up where you’re sprawled on the couch. Bucky enters, arms laden with bags from the convenience store.

“They didn’t have the banana ice cream you asked for,” he announces, continuing before your pout fully forms, “but they did have the double chocolate brownie kind you love so much, so I got that, as well as the sour gummy worms, beef jerky, and fried pickles from the deli on your list of demands.”

“What about—”

“ _ And _ your strawberry Fanta,” he adds with a fond, slightly exasperated smile.

You’re unable to stop your expression from going soft and dreamy. 

Ever since you and Bucky figured out where to go with your relationship, he’s been even  _ more _ attentive and accommodating (and that’s saying something). You expressed your worry about the possibility of something going wrong, that one or both of you would get bored and leave, or there’d be a big fight that neither of you could forgive. He was quick to reassure you of his commitment, told you there was no way he would ever get bored of you, and that as long as you both promise to talk things out in a calm, mature way, then you’d be alright. 

It all sounded so easy when it was put like that. The more you thought about it, though, the more you realized he was right. It wasn’t fair to either of you to already give up before you’d even started. So you’d taken a deep breath and leaped.

Now, you’re five and a half months in, your belly steadily growing and making life increasingly uncomfortable. The changes to your body were physically and emotionally draining, to say the least. Moreso the emotional side. You’d hoped you wouldn’t be one of those pregnant women with strange cravings, and for the most part they were pretty tame, but you did like to dip your gummy worms in the banana ice cream. Bucky didn’t attempt to hide his disgust over that.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you ask on a pleased sigh. 

He places your small cornucopia of goods on the coffee table. You sit up, huffing for breath during the struggle. You go to reach for the ice cream first, but Bucky catches your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and kissing your knuckles as he kneels in front of you.

“You were yourself. Smart, kind, selfless, unbelievably sexy,” you snort at that, but he’s undeterred. “And you’re giving me the best gift I could ever dream of. A family.”

Instantly, you’re crying. He’s grown accustomed to the mood swings by now, taking it in stride as he wipes away the tears with gentle hands.

“Stop being so disgusting,” you blubber through your hiccuping cries. “You’re such an asshole.”

Bucky laughs. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

You sniffle, kissing him. “Love you,” you grumble.

He leans down and plants the softest of kisses to your belly. “And I love you, little lady.”

The idea of you having a child one day always seemed foreign and unlikely, but life has a way of turning out exactly how it’s supposed to… And you wouldn’t change a thing.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! feedback is welcomed and appreciated :)


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